for a short time only. “I need my connection,” she said presently. “Two more days, huh?”
“What exactly do you do that keeps you online most of the day?” Betty asked. “I get the souped-up computer with all the whiz-bang gizmos, multiple monitors, a graphics card that would break anyone’s bank account...but you can get your email here, right?”
Dory smiled faintly and poured herself a little more coffee. “I don’t do graphic art all by myself. I work with a team most of the time. Being able to chat back and forth and share files is essential.”
“I see.” Betty furrowed her brow. “Well, I can call the company again and see if they can hop to it. I know Wil Gladston, and he should be able to pull a string or two.”
Dory reached out to touch Betty’s arm. “A couple of days more won’t make or break my situation. Everyone knew I’d be off grid for a while. And everyone knows I’m moving. At least we’re not under a tight deadline pressure right now.”
“If you’re sure,” Betty said. “Things happen so differently in a small town, you know. Nobody’s in a rush without a reason. I’m sure if I explained about your job...”
Dory shook her head. “It’s all right,” she insisted. “I’ve got more than enough to keep me busy, and I can check email on your connection, as you said.”
She decided it was time to change the subject. She didn’t want Betty worrying about her. “So this guy with the dogs? You said he has ostriches? Really?”
Betty’s face smoothed, and a grin was born. “Two of ’em. Nasty critters.”
“Then why does he have them?”
“He doesn’t know.” Betty laughed. “It’s such a funny story. Cadell’s dad died unexpectedly. When Cadell came home for the funeral, he found he’d not only inherited the ranch, but those damn ostriches, as well. No clue why or how they got there.” She leaned forward a bit, still grinning. “Now I gotta tell you, that man is patient beyond belief and seldom cusses. But those birds can wind him up enough to cuss a blue streak. A very inventive blue streak. A show well worth watching.”
Dory was smiling herself, verging on a laugh. “Why doesn’t he get rid of them?”
“You think he hasn’t tried? Oh, my.” Betty threw her head back and laughed. “I’ll let him tell you. It’s a story and a half.”
Several hours later as she dressed to go meet this K-9 guy with Betty, Dory wondered why she should need protection. Her brother always had been good to Dory before that night. More tolerant than most brothers that age with a girl of seven. Their relationship had been warm and loving.
Until that night. Every time she remembered him standing there drenched in blood, holding out his hand, holding a bloody knife, she wondered what his intentions had been. Would he have killed her, too? She still didn’t understand why he’d killed her parents. Or how it was he hadn’t gotten a life sentence.
But all those unanswered questions ate at her, and the nightmares proved that she was afraid of him to this day. Maybe that fear was groundless, but he had killed their parents and offered no good explanation for any of it that she had ever heard, not even much later when she was old enough to ask the questions.
Impatient with herself, she yanked on a polo shirt to go with her jeans and tried to look forward to seeing the nasty ostriches. And the dogs. She’d always liked dogs.
Just one step at a time, one day at a time, until her emotional upset settled once again. She’d be fine.
* * *
CADELL MARCUS STOOD near the ostrich pen, eyeing his pair of nemeses with restrained dislike. Except for some pretty feathers, these were the ugliest-looking birds he’d ever seen. He was a tall man, but they towered over him, a fact they never seemed to let him forget. Dinosaurs. Why weren’t they extinct?
But there they stood, edged into the small pen he sometimes needed to use because, occasionally, despite ostrich demands, he needed his corral for things besides them.
Nor did he ever let himself forget those birds could kick him to death with a few blows. Not that they tried, but they’d sure given him the evil eye often enough, and when they stopped being scared of him and quit hunkering down, they had discovered great delight in pecking at his cowboy hats. Two expensive ones had bitten the dust before he’d realized what he really needed was a football helmet when he came within six feet.
He’d rounded them up into the small pen today, because Betty Cassell was bringing that friend of hers out to see about a guard dog. Betty had given him only the sketchiest of accounts as to why she felt it necessary, so he hoped he’d get more of the story when they arrived.
In the meantime...those damn ostriches would have to behave whether they liked it or not. At least the electrified fencing contained them. He couldn’t imagine trying to catch them if they ever got out. He’d need Mike Windwalker, the veterinarian, with his magic dart gun.
They were glaring at him now. He glared back. “You two don’t know how lucky you are that I don’t send you to a boot factory.”
He finally heard a motor approaching and the sound of tires on the gravel. Both birds redirected their attention and backed up, settling low to the ground in a protective posture. “Stay that way,” he suggested, then went to greet his guests.
A smile lit his face the instant he saw Betty. Something about her always made him smile. But the woman who climbed out the other side of the car made him catch his breath. He wouldn’t have thought a living woman could have the face of a Botticelli angel, complete with long blond hair, but this one did. She caught and held his gaze until he realized he was being rude.
Then he saw the rest of her. Oh, man, no angel could have a body like that. Or at least shouldn’t, because it caused an immediate firestorm in him, jeans and loose blue polo shirt notwithstanding.
“Hey, Cadell,” Betty called with a wave.
Cadell gathered himself with effort, mentally whipped himself back into line and focused on her. He approached with outstretched hand. “Good to see you, Betty.”
“Same here,” she said, shaking his hand. “And this is my friend Dory Lake.”
He turned and could no longer avoid looking at her. Simply breathtaking. With blue eyes the color of a summer sky. At one glance she made him feel dusty, unkempt and out of his league.
But she smiled warmly and extended her hand. When he reached for it, the touch was electric. “I heard about your ostriches.”
“Not everything, I’m sure.” Well, at least he could still talk, and the ostriches provided a bridge over his reaction to her. Never had a woman left him feeling so...well, hell, he was a cop. No one, male or female, ever left him gobsmacked.
Until now.
“Betty said you inherited the birds with the ranch?”
His grin returned. “Yup. I have no idea where they came from, just that apparently my dad had been taking care of them. Long enough to put in electrified fencing so they can’t escape. So there they are.” He turned and pointed to the pen. “Don’t get too close—they peck.”
She
